


be still my heart

by onyxaltair



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, also bull, and cole - Freeform, and some of the chargers, theyre barely mentioned tho sO
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 07:52:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9063127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onyxaltair/pseuds/onyxaltair
Summary: varric x cassandra drabbles





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ushio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ushio/gifts).



> secret santa piece for brightbutimpossible on tumblr! go check them out and such  
> hope you enjoy it :) (update: just found their ao3! ushio!)

The Iron Bull hovered over his Chargers as they fought in pairs in the sparring ring. A bi-weekly activity that he had chosen for them to stay at the top of their game when they weren’t on a job. 

"Krem! Shield up!"  
Krem grunted in response, bringing his shield up to deflect Grim's sword.  
"Thanks, Chief!" He replied, parrying with another blow by Grim. Their swords clashed, sending echoes of metal on metal across the courtyard. 

Another benefit of being out of the tavern, was being able to listen in on news and gossip from those who didn't frequent said tavern.

In a nook between two buildings, just aside the ring, Cassandra sat, long forgotten her own training. It wasn't that Chargers loud sparring that had disrupted her though, despite the chance that her own inner monologue was trying to tell her otherwise. Instead what had stopped her was Varric, quietly dropping off another chapter of Swords and Shields for her to look over. 

He had planned to drop it off and leave, but she was insistent on discussing the last chapter he had given her. He was happy that she was willing to gush about his book to him, instead of the smugness that he tended to show when there were others around.  
He listened intently to her critiques of the novel and possible plot. Even when she meandered off topic, he stayed.

Long after the Chargers had packed up and gone for dinner, and after the sky had gone dark, he stayed.

 

-

 

Cassandra grunted, and screwed up yet another letter in the the growing pile on the floor.

She had planned to write something small for the Inquisitor, a word of thanks for everything they had done for the Inquisition and Thedas. After all, the Inquisitor had sealed dozens of rifts, sealed the breach, and walked in the fade, _all_ while leading the Inquisition. This was the least Cassandra could do.

She had been writing on and off for _hours_ now, often leaving in search to break something other than her quill. 

When her anger had finally gotten the best of her, and she snapped her last quill, she finally decided to begrudgingly get help.

An hour later, Varric was in her chambers, leant against her desk while she wrote. 

“Thank-you, Inquisitor, for giving us the hope we need to defeat Corypheus and seal the breach.”  
Varric grinned.  
"That line is a perfect ending Cassandra. No editing required.”  
“Really?” Cassandra asked, tilting her chair to face him. “You mean it?”  
Varric took a step forward, standing eye to eye with her.  
"Truly." 

He placed his hand on her shoulder and squeezed as he turned to leave.  
"You need to give yourself more credit, Seeker."

 

-

 

They walked in formation - warrior in the front, rogues on the sides, Inquisitor nestled in the back - walking, waiting.  
Varric had a handful of small, smooth pebbles he had found along the riverbank, and had taken them tossing them softly at Cassandra's back. Not hard enough to hurt, enough to make aware. The sound of the clash on metal reminds her of-

"Varric." She snarled, whipping around to face him. "Enough."  
"Calm down Seeker. Just keeping you sharp." A wink. A hidden promise.

Cassandra grunted and turned back around, continuing to lead the group through the 'Graves.

They only walked for a few steps before he spoke.

"Hard enough to hear, soft enough to not hurt. Is it reminding her of shields? Does she understand? Metal is bent, love and rage get twisted, entwining together until they stop being separate. They become one, a long ribbon holding the pages together. A gift."  
"A bit personal, Kid." Varric sighed, clapping him on the back.

Cassandra paused and blushed for barely a moment, before grunting and fixating on her gloves as she stormed onwards.

 

-

 

Tight bandages were wrapped around her bust, with extra packing where the blood kept seeping through the stitches and fabric. A pair of dark, baggy pants were tied loosely at her hips, constantly in danger of getting soaked with solution each time she bent over.

She had been in a fight days prior, where her old chestplate had gotten a little worse for wear, caving in when an axe hit it just a _little_ too hard. The new hole in her side was proof. When she was told that she had a new plate delivered, she took the first opportunity to escape the infirmary and paint the Seekers of Truth all-seeing eye onto it.

Varric had originally been interested in watching the Seeker paint her armour for hours on end - watching others partake in other arts was always so fascinating to him - but had stayed for the display.

Where fabric wasn’t able to cover, a network of different sized jagged scars sat against the dark of her skin. Some were white, and stood out poignantly, while others were thin and dark, barely noticeable. 

Varric's job was to tell stories, some that had reached thousands of people. Most were completely made up, others so far embellished that they were barely what they had been.  
There was an honesty to scars than there is to written words. Theres so much they can say, with so little explanation. 

So Varric sat, and asked for the stories for each one on her body.


End file.
